on Bissell, after a short pause, "that yuh were
two days with them rustlers and that yuh can tell who they are if yuh
will. Now will yuh tell us how you got in with 'em in the first place?"

Bud began at the time of the crossing of the Big Horn and with much detail
described how he had outwitted the Bar T punchers with the hundred sheep
under Pedro, while the rest of the flock went placidly north. His manner
of address was good, he talked straightforwardly, and with conviction and,
best of all, had a broad sense of humor that vastly amused these cowmen.

Sympathetic though they were with Bissell's cause, Larkin's story of how a
despised sheepman had outwitted the cattle-king brought grins and
chuckles.

"I allow yuh better steer clear o' them sheep, Bissell," suggested one man
drolly. "First thing yuh know this feller'll tell yuh he's bought the Bar
T away from yuh without yore knowin' it. Better look up yore land grant
to-night."

By this time Bissell had become a caldron of seething rage. His hand
actually itched to grab his gun and teach Larkin a lesson. But his
position as chairman of the gathering prevented this, although he knew
that plains gossip was being made with every word spoken. Among the cowmen
about him were some whose ill success or smaller ranches had made them
jealous, and, in his mind, he could see them retailing with much relish
what a fool Larkin had made of him. He knew he would meet with reminders
of this trial during the rest of his life.

However, he stuck to his guns.

"Now what we want to know, young feller, is this: the names an'
descriptions of them rustlers."

"I will give them to you gladly and will supply men to help run them down
at my own expense if you will let the rest of my sheep come north on your
range. Not only that, but I will not ask any damages for the animals you
have already killed. Now, men," Larkin added, turning to the others and
with a determined ring in his voice, "I want peace. This fighting is
cutting our own throats and we are losing money by the hour.

"The range is free, as all of you know; there is a law against fencing it,
and that means that no grangers can settle here and make it pay--the
animals would eat all their unfenced farm truck. I have a ranch in Montana
with about three thousand sheep on it. I tried to buy more there, but
couldn't.

"Therefore, I had to come down south and 'walk' them north. Now I don't
like to fight anybody, chiefly because i